The air inside the carriage dropped in temperature so fast that the little elf's breath turned to mist.
Before the Hawk could even draw her blade, frost exploded from Ryn's palm. It coiled through the air like living smoke, solidifying around her wrists in perfect cuffs of ice.
She staggered, half-frozen, the glow of her hawk spirit flickering weakly beneath her sleeve. Even through her mask, her expression twisted — disgust, frustration, and disbelief mixing together.
Ryn tilted his head. "You know, most people knock before trying to kill us."
She strained against the frost. "You think I'd waste my blade on someone who hides behind a mask?"
"Not hides," he said evenly, stepping closer. "Protects."
Her reply was a furious growl muffled by the frost creeping higher up her arms. She tried to move, but the ice held firm, glittering pale blue in the dim light.
Then, in the back of his mind, came a voice — amused, lilting, and unmistakably smug.
Oh, finally using me properly, the Ice Fox purred. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten what power feels like.
Ryn's jaw tightened. "You again."
You're welcome, thief. I lent you a little more this time. Three percent, maybe three and a half. Don't waste it.
"You mean the same three percent you stole back from me?"
Details, the Fox said lazily. Besides, my three percent is stronger than your little ice sparrow tricks.
Ryn muttered aloud, "You damn oversized snow rat—"
"What did you call me?" the Fox hissed in his skull.
Before the argument could escalate, a sharp voice cut through the cold.
"Will you stop fighting with the voices in your head?!" the Hawk shouted, jerking her frozen hands. "I didn't come here to attack you!"
Ryn blinked. "...You didn't?"
Lysandra raised an eyebrow. "Could've fooled us."
"I came," the Hawk growled, "to ask you to join my crew."
The silence that followed was deafening. Even Snowmuncher snorted like it couldn't believe what it had just heard.
Ryn slowly pointed at her. "You broke into our carriage. With blades. And you froze my bread two days ago."
She glared back. "I don't invite people politely. I test them."
Lysandra sighed. "Oh, perfect. Another maniac with a sword and a hobby."
Ryn folded his arms. "Fine. I'll bite. How many people are in this 'crew' of yours?"
The Hawk hesitated, then said flatly, "…One."
He stared at her. "One. Meaning… you."
"Yes."
Ryn's head thunked against the side of the carriage. "Great. So your grand plan is to recruit me and my alleged kidnapped princess into a one-woman army."
"I had better luck than expected," she said.
"I've lost my will to live," he muttered.
Lysandra smirked behind her gloved hand. "Now you know how I felt when I met you."
And then, from the backseat, a small voice piped up.
"Father's not alone," said the little elf, her tone matter-of-fact. "He already has a crew."
Ryn turned, still groaning. "What crew?"
She counted on her tiny fingers. "Me, Princess Lysandra, and you."
Lysandra blinked, then chuckled softly. "She's not wrong."
The Hawk stared at the girl, the frost on her arms beginning to crack as Ryn relaxed his grip on his power.
"You already have three members," the elf continued. "If you want… you can join."
The silence that followed was strange — not tense, but oddly human.
The Hawk's glare softened just a fraction. The ice fell away in glittering shards. She rubbed her wrists, frowning, as if unsure how to process the invitation.
"Join… you?" she repeated quietly.
The little elf nodded. "Every crew needs someone who can fly."
The Hawk looked down at her scarred hands, the faint light of her spirit flickering there. For a long moment, the only sound was the rattle of the carriage wheels and the soft hum of the wind outside.
Then she said, almost reluctantly, "Maybe… I could consider it."
Ryn slumped back in his seat. "Fantastic. We've gone from wanted criminals to babysitters with a bird problem."
Lysandra smiled faintly. "You're the one who said you liked adventure."
Ryn sighed, pulling his mask straight. "Remind me never to say that again."
Outside, the plains of Lumeria stretched endless and white, wind sweeping across them like a promise. Inside the carriage, four unlikely souls sat together — a princess, a thief, a child, and a hawk without wings.
For the first time, none of them were running.